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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172258">Infinite Galaxies and Endless Possibilities</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A marriage of convenience, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Ambush in the woods, Badass Rey, Badass Rose, BloodPlay?, Dominant Kylo Ren, Droit de seigneur, F/M, HEA, Happy families - almost, Knifeplay?, Mention of drunkeness, Mention of pregnancy, Penis In Vagina Sex, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Plutt being a dick, Power Imbalance, Princess mother, Reylo - Freeform, Serving wench Rey, Serving wench Rose, Sex in the woods, Smut and Fluff, Snoke Being a Dick, This sounds bad but read in context, Treachery, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey, Warlord Kylo, We Die Like Men, mention of drugs, mention of vomiting, unbeta’d</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:42:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Complete and with updated Chapter 3</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Kylo Ren/Ben Solo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/13oct/gifts">13oct</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinotopian/gifts">dinotopian</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is dedicated to 13oct and dinotopian, unrepentant medieval babes and leavers of kudos and kind comments. Thank you ❤️</p><p>This one shot does contain drug use to escape unwanted sexual intercourse, reference to drunkenness and vomiting, in a medieval setting.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The new lord of the county - bestowed upon him by his benevolent mentor - could not be prouder or more content. Especially since crossing the county line and seeing the richness of the land spread out before him.</p><p>True, the fields stood fallow, and the rich green of summer was giving way to russet and gold in the distant tree line, but still, the land was redolent of fecundity and endless possibilities.</p><p>As his horse’s hooves beat out a steady timpani upon the softened earth, the new lord cast his eye along the beckoning tree line, noting its vastness and depth. This must be the great forest he had been told of, dense not only of branch and leaf, but also with deer and boar, bear and wolf, and all of it belonging to him and him alone.</p><p>Only his spear could be raised against the game surely concealed there, only his bow bent against it, unless given his express permission, for he was its new lord. Everything sentient that breathed here belonged to him, and even then.</p><p>They were now upon it. The broad, well-worn track they had been following was now caparisoned by lofty, leaf-covered branches forming a bower through which even the sun could not fully pierce; except at that time of year when nature strummed upon winter’s harp - and then to shine upon it with enfeebled rays.</p><p>Now, the dull thud of the horses hooves against the dry, impacted earth beneath them filled the stagnant air around them, accompanied by their steeds snorting breaths, the jingle of harness, and the creak of their high leather saddles.</p><p>The deeper they went, the stiller the forest became, the silence pressing against their ears. Occasionally a green glade opened on their right or left, catching their eye as they thundered past.</p><p>It was in one of these glades a sight highly offensive to his possessive eye was glimpsed.</p><p>A pack horse stood with a stag slung over its back, newly killed by the look of it, a long shaft sticking up directly behind its shoulder, fired true into the beast’s once beating heart. There, standing beside it as his companions laboured to secure the heavy load, was the archer, a tall slender lad dressed in a russet coloured tunic with a soft green pileus cap pulled over his hair, the tip of its high cone drooping forwards.</p><p>Such was their pace, they overshot before he could halt the column riding behind him; turning Tie’s head and cramming him at the verdant patch wherein stood his disobedient subjects.</p><p>“What the hell, Ren!” his second in command ejaculated, but his lord was gone.</p><p>Where the track met the glade there was a shallow ditch filled with such detritus as twigs, leaf mould and new fallen leaves. It wasn’t an obstacle as such, but still he set the big horse to leap it, landing with a jarring grunt.</p><p>Alas, he was too late, the tail of the pack horse, attached to broad, glossy hindquarters, was just disappearing down some concealed track, the vegetation closing seamlessly behind it, whispering briefly as if disturbed by some breeze where in fact there was none and then stilling.</p><p>The archer, however, was still there, standing rearguard apparently to his larcenous fellows. Ren pulled on Tie’s rein so savagely the big horse’s haunches dipped and his head shot up in protest at such rough treatment, expelling great snorting breaths indicative of spleen.</p><p>Across the few yards separating them, Ren’s gaze locked with the bowman, a mere lad it flitted through his mind. His own amber orbs were darkened in his outrage, meeting cool green ones. In those few seconds, when it seemed as if it were only they two in all the world, it occurred to him that they were filled with infinite galaxies and endless possibilities.</p><p>“My lord, ware!” a shout from behind him pulled him from his stupor, “he shoots.”</p><p>True enough, the archer had drawn back his bow and launched an arrow at Ren, who instinctively put up his shield, hearing the thud of the hunting tip strike against the leather covered wood before being deflected. As he lowered it, intending to draw steel, the would be slayer of his lord had disappeared.</p><p>Ren crammed Tie forward once more, pulling him up before and gazing into the Stygian gloom beyond the glade. It was of no use, no doubt the lad knew of secret ways, and he would not risk Tie by forcing him through. The light, anyway, being so poor he doubted he could see a hand in front of him were he to follow.</p><p>It was a grim faced warlord who turned back toward his men, and the sneering, pasty faced individual foisted upon him by his mentor, Baron Snoke.</p><p>“You’ll have to be quicker than that, Ren, if you’re to save Snoke’s venison from depredation,” Hux’s smooth voice sneered.</p><p>“My venison, Hux,” Ren reminded the ginger, seeing chagrin flash across the other man’s face before his features closed off, a tense jawline being the only indication his barb had hit true.</p><p>Ren was sure Hux was assigned to spy on him, now that so many miles separated him from his mentor, but this was for his own good, he knew, to prevent him from misstepping. At the end of the day, Ren had his mentor’s favour and always would have. That it rankled with Hux, he knew.</p><p>He was able, therefore, to gather up his reins in tolerable good humour; Hux, at least, had not got the better of him, and resumed his journey.</p><p>This interruption of their journey, though slight, and a subsequent altercation before an unmapped fork in the track occasioning the sending forth of scouts, meant they would not make the city gates before nightfall.</p><p>Yes, they could shelter in the chapel built on the bridge before the city gates, as was customary with those who missed curfew, but their company were too numerous to accommodate them all. Besides, they had no fodder for the horses, the commissary wagons at least half a day behind them. All had been predicated on them keeping their time.</p><p>Hux, of course, must whinge and whine, an ‘I told you so, Ren’ implied but not directly expressed - he loved life too much to risk that so far from Snoke’s restraining hand.</p><p>It was an irate Ren, therefore, who drew up before an inn, ready to do murder, teeth grinding as he crossed the threshold calling for the landlord to immediately tend to his needs. These consisted of wine or ale, food aplenty and a soft bed for the night. All to be supplied without further ado.</p><p>The lardy creature before him bowed and scraped, assuring him of his best attention before bellowing for, “Rey, Rose, get your lazy arses out here. Your lord has come and has need of you.”</p><p>Ren paid him no mind, vaguely registering the man’s continuing grumbles as he waddled into the nether regions of the inn, no doubt to arrange sustenance.</p><p>A few locals were already ensconced in the nook before the fire, anticipating the cool of the evening. These Ren ordered to be cast out into the street, drawing off his gloves and tucking them into his belt as he walked toward the cheery flames to warm his own hands. Indifferent to their half-hearted complaint and plea for mercy, he allowed the rough handling of them by his gleeful men at arms.</p><p>He cleared the table by dint of sweeping the beakers of ale and platters from upon it onto the floor, seating himself and stretching out his long legs toward the crackling heat of a goodly fire. Hux was still muttering under his breath, taking the seat opposite, without the direct comfort of the fire.</p><p>The place could do with some modernising, but was otherwise clean and in good order. He was aware of a movement beside him, a pretty serving wench was standing there, silently regarding the mistreated wooden beakers and platter. A tankard was held in her hand, foaming froth spilling over and down its sides.</p><p>“Is that for me?” He decided to treat kindly, for she was very pretty despite the scowl.</p><p>In answer she dumped the pewter tankard down in front of him with a loud thwack, some of the contents emptying onto the tabletop and threatening to decant on him.</p><p>“Hey,” he yelled, “careful!”</p><p>She paid him no mind, swooping on the discarded items and departing clutching them to her bosom, which was small but pert. He just happened to notice.</p><p>Hux cackled in the seat opposite, restored to good humour at his expense. Ren scowled at him taking a deep swig of the beer, which was better than he thought it would be.</p><p>Another serving wench appeared at Hux’s elbow. This one diminutive where her companion had been tall, built on more womanly lines where the other had been slender. He watched Hux’s cheeks and ears heat up, the barmaid’s dark beauty and figure evidently to his taste.</p><p>He grinned into his tankard at Hux’s self-conscious uttering of, “Thank you, fair maid,” as he was served. Crumbs and spilt beer being mopped up before him so his setting was made clean. Ren frowned a little then; his own ‘fair maid’ had not so much as looked to his comfort.</p><p>He watched as Hux shyly gazed after the serving maid, Rose. She had answered his query with a smile as shy as his own and told him her name was Rose. Hux had gallantly then told her that ‘a Rose was the fairest among flowers’. Ren choked into his beer, earning a glare from the both of them.</p><p>Now Rose was returning to the kitchen, her hips swaying most alluringly. He rolled his eyes at Hux’s besotted look, pausing when he observed his own fair flower heading toward him, a bowl and platter held in her hands. He frantically tried to think of some compliment he could pay her, he was not a master of winsome words like Hux.</p><p>Consequently he said nothing, just grunted his thanks as she set down a bowl of broth and a platter of stew before him with something of a bang, in a most graceless way despite her body moving as gracefully as a butterfly’s wings. He toyed with telling her that, but she was gone. He picked up the pear wood spoon she’d dumped down with his food and began to shovel it into his mouth.</p><p>He was forced to witness another stomach churning interchange between Hux and Rose, moodily staring at his plate as best he could. Ignoring as best he could the soft murmuring of their voices opposite.</p><p>Hux now served, and delicately picking at his food like some persnickety cat, he looked into his own tankard and found it emptied. Looking up he sought sight of his fair maid. She was serving at a table of his men at arms, their noise and bold sallies increasing exponentially as their beakers of ale emptied. She was currently unwinding the encroaching arms of one of them from around her waist.</p><p>He was up with a growl, chair flung back, the chape of his sword scraping noisily against the stone floor as he rose in haste. He was by her side in a few long strides, cuffing the man about his head for his insolence and drawing her to his side.</p><p>He did not mean to say it, but he felt it, and as usual with him gave vent to his feelings.</p><p>“Do not touch her,” he snarled, “do not think to lay hands on her, for she is mine.”</p><p>He had thought to warn the man off. However, his words echoed around the bar and were heard by all. A deathly silence descended on the place, all activity ceasing. He looked down at her, still pressed against his flank. Her skin was tanned. Her nose and the apples of her cheeks freckled, glowing golden in light cast by oil lamps and the wooden chandelier above their heads, lit with foul smelling tallow candles.</p><p>Her lips were parted slightly, rendering them eminently kissable, her eyes were green. It was the work of a moment, inevitable, undeniable; his own lips touched hers, adjusting her to lie against his breast, her heart to beat against his, a most desirable thing.</p><p>He was not skilled at kissing girls, in fact she was his first, so his lips moved softly over hers, feeling a reciprocal soft pressure. Suddenly he wanted more, drawing his arms about her tighter, hearing her squeak as he increased the pressure of his lips on hers.</p><p>His thoughts suddenly became lustful, his mind invaded by images which would surely earn reproach from chaste priests were he to put voice his desires in the confessional.</p><p>What would her thoughts be, he wondered, if he confessed them to her?Would she willingly share with him in a season with Eros?</p><p>He had his answer, sort of, for as he pulled away, the better to ask her, beaming down at her triumphantly, she drew back her hand and slapped him across the cheek - hard.</p><p>If she thought she could get away with that he soon showed her her error, grasping her by her upper arms, not caring that she winced, and bellowed for the landlord.</p><p>“Plutt, Plutt,” he roared, “get your fat arse in here.”</p><p>One of his men at arms, anticipating the cowardly landlord might run, rose from his seat and sauntered into the kitchens, emerging some minutes later with the fat rascal by the collar. Ren gave his man a nod of thanks, who then let go his hold and drew back.</p><p>Ren then addressed Plutt, who trembled before him, “How much?”</p><p>“My lord?” Plutt got out wheezily.</p><p>“For the girl, how much?” In his hold Rey tried to struggle free. It was of no use, he had her fast.</p><p>Plutt’s eyes showed a return to his native craftiness.</p><p>“Well, my lord, the girl’s a virgin. I keep a decent house, I do.”</p><p>Somehow the man’s virtue signalling didn’t ring quite true. He hurried on to speak into the sardonic silence that greeted his words, “All in all, I think that a shilling would be a fair price for the girl’s services, all things considered. For the night, that is,” he amended hastily.</p><p>“You dog,” spat out the girl, “I’ll see you in hell for this.”</p><p>A fleeting look of fear crossed the landlord’s face, but then, regarding the implacable dark knight in whose viselike grip she was held, he brushed it off.</p><p>“Ho, will you, my girl. It seems I have the whip hand here. Or rather his lordship does,” he anxiously rolled his eyes Ren’s way to see if offence had been given, wringing his hands and shifting uneasily. He saw that Ren was indifferent to anything but the girl, who he was currently devouring with a most intense gaze.</p><p>“I’ve done right by you all these years, now’s the time to do right by me. A foundling you were and I as good as a father to you - better, even.” He was warming to his theme, a self-righteous note entering into his voice.</p><p>As Rey could not get free, she spat at the landlord, catching him clean in the face.</p><p>Swearing a great oath, he wiped his face with his sleeve and raised his fist, advancing upon Ren and the girl.</p><p>“Touch her and you’re a dead man.” Ren spoke quietly, his eyes never leaving Rey. She turned her face toward him and their eyes locked in an unbroken gaze. “Hux,”, he continued, “give this creature fourpence. She’s mine for fourpence.”</p><p>The landlord had fallen back at Ren’s threat and began to make a sound of protest, a strangled, “My lord ...” Clearly the girl was of more value to him than he would ordinarily admit. However, Hux was at his elbow as cool as Ren was hot, dispassionate where the dark knight was impulsive, feigning boredom where Ren wore his heart in his sleeve.</p><p>“Here, my good fellow, take your payment and be off.” Plutt had no choice, he took the fourpence, each silver penny flicked languidly at him his to catch and keep. Before he could pull away, now silent and sullen, Rose joined in the drama, barging between the players to grasp one of Rey’s hands with both her own and begging her friend to have no fear and be brave.</p><p>Plutt, seeing an opportunity to vent his spleen, pulled her away, pinching her arm so that she cried out and rubbed it to ease the pain.</p><p>“Hey,” the tall ginger knight now intervened, his veneer of urbanity gone, a man red in tooth and claw, “do not touch her, slug, else answer to me.”</p><p>It was fair to say that Plutt’s whole world had been turned topsy turvy by the arrival of the new Count and his entourage.</p><p>Used to bully and browbeat his dependents, a natural born coward, he was now pitted against men who would not scruple to eviscerate him if he crossed them. It caused him to become sullen and resentful. However, he hid this, having a care for his own well-being. He sketched out a bow and muttered an apology, received with indifference by the two lords. Hux was busy establishing Rose’s hurts and Ren on taking the object of his affection to bed.</p><p>To that end Ren urged her, “Lead the way, sweetheart.”</p><p>The look Rey fetched him could be interpreted as ‘if I had my hands free, it would be the worst for you, my lord’. Fortunately, he had her held fast.</p><p>“If you run, you know it will be worse?” he warned.</p><p>She made no reply, but bit her bottom lip and nodded toward a door which led to a stairwell. He released her from his cruel grip. As they passed through a great cheer went up from his men. They were used to Ren’s imperiousness, but never had they known him be possessive of a woman. Indeed, he was a fine soldier and leader of men, but lover he was not.</p><p>His treatment of Plutt was typical to those who crossed him. However, many a lady of the court had exposed her shoulders and bosoms to entice him, to be met with perfect indifference. How was it that this slender maiden, in her demure and shabby dress and apron, had caught his interest? His seeming misogyny was one of the things Baron Snoke particularly prized about him, that and his doglike devotion and precious Skywalker blood.</p><p>They cheered then, and beat out a rapid tattoo on the tabletops, culminating in a great shout, their meaning plain. Their full attention then turned to Lord Hux, sat in their master’s vacated chair with the tiny dark-haired maid upon his knee, whispering sweet nothings into her ear by the look of it. This too was out of character. My, it must be something in the air of this place.</p><p>In absence of service, they helped themselves to the contents of Plutt’s pots and pantry. They doubted they’d pay, knowing their master’s temper as they did. Why the fat landlord was like to be ruined! They went about their business cheerfully.</p><p>Upstairs, in one of the few guest rooms, Kylo Ren had latched the door and bolted it, leaning against it to regard the fair maid of his choosing through narrowed eyes. She had gone to stand before the fire, looking into it, fists clenched by her side.</p><p>He seemed to have come to a decision for he crossed to her side and took hold of her chin, turning her to look down into her eyes. They were dark green in the light from the fire, with a touch of amber. He gazed down into them, into their depths, they were full of infinite galaxies and endless possibilities. He nodded, as though come to some conclusion.</p><p>His next words surprised her - they not being an order to strip.</p><p>“It is you.”</p><p>He saw her brows start to draw together, then registering of his meaning, a faint blush forming on the apples of her cheeks. He nodded his head, satisfied, she had acknowledged his meaning without tedious denial and counter argument.</p><p>“The youth from the forest. The archer. You tried to kill me.”</p><p>His tone was quite benign, matter of fact; conversational, despite the accusation made.</p><p>She seemed to recover some of her sangfroid, “Oh, pooh! I only drew the bowstring back a fraction. It was a distraction not an attempt to kill. Had I known you were coming here, it may have been a different outcome.”</p><p>She moved to pass him. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, she winced. “Don’t,” he growled at her.</p><p>“I have no intention of running, knowing you will either catch me or soon hunt me down. I merely go to pour us a cup of wine,” she nodded to a table in the corner, an earthenware carafe and beakers stood there. He released her.</p><p>“You know, that’s not very flattering, sweetheart, given the reason I brought you to this room.” He picked up a spill from the mantle shelf and bent to light it at the fire, lighting the two candles placed in prickets on the shelf. They pushed the dark corners of the room back a little.</p><p>She was busy pouring, her back to him. “Well, given you intend to take my maidenhead and ride off in the morning never to be seen again, I think I’m entitled to a little spleen.”</p><p>She turned and walked toward him, sipping the wine. It had wetted her lips, and as she handed him the beaker, she put a finger to her lips and rubbed the stain from the wine into them. He swallowed convulsively, putting the cup to his own lips and drinking a great draught, appearing calm and in control before her.</p><p>His men had assumed right, until her he had never desired any woman the way he desired her. His estate was the same as hers, a virgin, though he would never confess it. Better to <i>seem</i> to know what he was doing; after all, she had no idea either.</p><p>He drained the cup, handing it back to her. She peeped into it and made a moue of dissatisfaction, turning to refill it.</p><p>“So, who taught you to shoot?”</p><p>“It’s a long story,” she seemed distracted, back turned to him, “let’s just say an ale house attracts a diverse amount of patrons.”</p><p>“I’m not giving you back,” he blurted out.</p><p>“What.” She swung around. “I heard you agree with Plutt for one night.”</p><p>“No, Plutt <i>assumed</i> one night, I was bargaining for forever.”</p><p>Her eyes were wide, her whole expression disbelieving. “You would marry a wench from an ale house?”</p><p>“Who said aught about marriage. No, you will be my concubine. Of course I must marry eventually, my position and place demands it, but it will be for sons only. Never doubt, sweetheart, you will always be first in my affections, though my wife must have precedence. My breeding demands it.”</p><p>A change came over her face. Was she trying not to laugh?</p><p>“Beau-sire,” she made a deep curtsy, “you honour me.”</p><p>She drank once more from the cup, her lips moistened by the wine. She did not put her finger to her lips to dry them.</p><p>He suspected her of irony, but chose to ignore it. She would see, he was a man of his word. He took the cup from her and drank deep. It was good, he felt himself relaxing with the warmth of the wine in his bloodstream. He was in control, he could do this. From below came the sounds of merriment and snatches of song. Good, good, his men deserved a furlough.</p><p>His mood became expansive. A man of few words, he felt he could talk all night to her. You have not brought her here to talk, his base parts reminded him. He finished off the wine and placed the cup on the mantle shelf. He needed no more courage from the fruit of the vine.</p><p>He looked upon her once more, really looked, her beauty stimulating his carnal desire. He took a step toward her, suddenly feeling flushed. He unpinned his cloak and flung it on the bed.</p><p>“Come here, sweetheart,” he breathed softly. To his surprise she stepped readily into the welcome of his arms. A little voice began to niggle in the back of his mind, the tactician in him warning of a trap; she was surrendering too easily. He shook his head, chasing the thought away.</p><p>“Beau-sire?” Her voice was soft, seductive, recalling him to the matter at hand.</p><p>Her hands were travelling to his shoulders, up over his broad chest. Tiny fingers curled themselves around his neck, tickling the back as they pulled on tendrils of his shoulder length hair. He was suddenly uncertain; had the landlord lied, was she not a virgin?</p><p>Her eyes did have an amber cast, he took note, her lips were parted, her head turned slightly. She wanted him to kiss her again. He obliged.</p><p>A memory. Girls teasing him over his looks. A gaggle of them, causing him to stomp home in embarrassment showing his temper. A voice, that of his father, “Ben, they are trying to get your attention. They’re interested in you. The problem’s not with them, son, it’s you. You have no game.”</p><p>Oh, the hot tears that careless put-down had provoked.</p><p>Snoke, in contrast, had appreciated his fastidiousness, encouraged him in his desire to be the complete warrior, both chaste and lethal. Well, he had the girl now. Anyway, what did his loser father know of females who were worth having? His mother excepted.</p><p>Emboldened, he pressed his tongue against her lips. She squeaked and it took some teasing, but he managed it, indulging in a manner of kissing he had heard his men carelessly discuss as they boasted of their conquests. It was essential, they had said, to bring the woman willingly to the man’s bed.</p><p>How sweet she tasted. He moved a hand to her breast and she moaned into his mouth. He was glad he came to her chaste. He would do what was necessary to bring forth sons, but to the woman in his arms he would speak only of love.</p><p>They broke for air and he staggered a little. He was hot. They needed to move away from the fire. He saw with satisfaction the wanton look on her face as he unbuckled his sword belt and removed his padded gambeson.</p><p>As he stripped he felt her hands on his back, exploring the muscles there through the silk of his shirt. He untucked this from his hose, pulling it over his head and casting it down with the rest of his clothing. He heard her appreciative gasp and felt her fingertips kneading his flanks, then the sensation of one of her fingers being run up and down his spine.</p><p>He turned slowly, giving her the full benefit of his body, stripped back to sinew and muscle and just enough fat to maintain health by iron discipline and daily practice of the martial arts.</p><p>“Like what you see, sweetheart,” he smirked at her. Her face was showing her fascination with the sight of him, worshipful even. He flexed his muscles and preened.</p><p>She raised her eyes to his. “You’re beautiful, my lord.”</p><p>His heart swelled with love for her, “Ben,” he blurted out, “when we are alone like this, call me by my true name, Ben.”</p><p>“<i>Behn</i>,” she parroted, and he felt inordinately pleased at the sound of his birth name on her lips. As she whisper said his name, her hands had returned to exploring his upper body, marvelling at the softness of the pale skin over the hardness, pursing her lips with dissatisfaction at the marks of combat marring the marble like perfection of him.</p><p>His biceps were gently traced, then his pecs, allowing her nails to gently scratch him as she traversed to his abdomen. A kitten would cause more harm, he scoffed, but a kitten would not cause such arousal as he now felt, his blood pulsing through him. He staggered a little, and she raised her eyes to his face from contemplation of his body. He could see by their expression she was not indifferent to him, could now match what he felt for her.</p><p>“My lord, lie down. Lie down with me.”</p><p>“Lady,” he managed feeling suddenly overcome, allowing her to push him back, crawling further onto the bed. Did an excess of passion weaken a man? Snoke had always told him so, making oblique reference to carnal appetites with much disdain.</p><p>She was kneeling beside him now, dress hitched up around her knees.</p><p>“Sleep, my lord. Sleep and regain your strength.”</p><p>He did feel weakened, no doubt, but still he desired to have her now.</p><p>She stroked his face as she spoke, carding her fingers through his hair. “Sleep, my lord, sleep.” Her voice, her tender touch were as balm to his soul, so neglectful had his childhood and youth been. Even Snoke, whose favour he had, had not the tenderness one could expect from a father figure and could deliver rather stinging verbal rebuke.</p><p>“Very, wifely,” he said sleepily, apropos of nothing, “I’ll marry you yet.”</p><p>Those soothing fingers paused and then resumed their exploration, moving down his chest to where his codpiece was, hose worn tighter these days than in days of yore, doing away also with the need for cross gartering.</p><p>“May I look, my lord.”</p><p>“Help yourself, my lady.” He could be generous, feeling as if he would be in sleep soon and not wanting to deny her pleasure.</p><p>She unlaced him, letting out a gasp and an involuntary, “Are all men hung as this?” He preened, forcing his eyes to open fully. She was staring in disbelief at his manhood. “Not all, lady, only a very few are so blessed by nature.”</p><p>His tone was boastful but she didn’t react with derision, rather she asked, a little breathlessly, “May I touch it?”</p><p>“Yes,” his voice was a hoarse whisper. As she took hold of him, he cried out, arching his back, desperate for her to provide relief. Never had he touched himself, but he was aware that ejaculation would bring relief.</p><p>She lay a comforting hand upon his abdomen, shushing him and beginning to gently pump his manhood. He didn’t last long, coming over her hand and his stomach with an unearthly cry. She was back beside him, pressing a gentle and most sacred kiss to his lips.</p><p>“If I was to be any man’s concubine, I would be yours,” she whispered.</p><p>He wanted to reply that she would be, but a great lassitude had come over him and he fell instead into a deep sleep.</p><p>He awoke with a splitting headache and a foul taste in his mouth, the grate was cold and the candles long extinguished. She was gone. He pulled aside the rug covering him, sitting up.</p><p>Thank the Maker no-one had come in, for he was bare chested still but, thankfully, she had retied his codpiece and cleaned him up.</p><p>He made it to to his feet, head spinning, lurching to the grate to relieve himself, fumbling with the ties of his codpiece. As he retied its strings, the first intimation came that she’d used druggery on him to preserve her virginity and escape him. For surely she would not now be found. Fleeing into the forest, he’d be bound. He continued to dress, pausing often to steady himself, his stomach now threatening rebellion. His conviction grew that she’d drugged him.</p><p>Buckling on his sword belt he staggered downstairs. His people were still sleeping, rolled in their cloaks, the detritus of their feasting covering every flat surface. The fire must have been well made for it continued to burn, albeit weakly. He made it to the scullery and thence to the pump, dowsing his head and neck, uncaring of the shoulders of his gambeson and shirt becoming soaked.</p><p>As he straightened up his stomach finally had its way and he threw up green bile which, once it had been purged, made him immediately feel so much better. His conviction that she’d drugged him solidified and he swore long and loud.</p><p>“Beau-sire,” the tentative voice of his squire recalled him to his sense of place. “Yes?” he got out, voice deep and thick. “It’s Tie, sire, he’s been took.”</p><p>“Took?” He struggled to comprehend, no-one could take Tie, the horse would slaughter them. No one rode Tie, just his master and a few favoured grooms.</p><p>“Yes, beau-sire, in the night, we think, his groom and I. We checked on him late and he was perfectly content, but going in just now, he’s been took.”</p><p>Ren summoned his reserves of energy and strode toward what passed for stables in this hellhole of a village. Tie was gone, and his harness too, no sign of blood or brains leaking from the thief’s stove in skull, or his accomplices. Whoever took Tie, the great horse had made no demur.</p><p>He was arrested by a sudden thought. Had <i>she</i> taken Tie, needful to get as far and as fast away from him, knowing she could expect no mercy from him now that she had betrayed him? She had the balls for it, of that he had no doubt. Snarling he turned away, leaving squire and groom to sweat and worry how long before my lord took his revenge on them.</p><p>He went back to the scullery and drank a tankard of ale, feeling so much better after downing it. He rooted around and found some cold cuts, the pantry almost denuded of supplies. He wondered at it.</p><p>Waking into the main bar he began to kick the sleeping forms, urging them to wake up, rise and shine. Groans and curses greeted him until they realised who it was that woke them. Then the air became charged with activity, a long line forming in the scullery for the pump.</p><p>He ran lightly up the stairs, kicking open the few doors until he found the one behind which Hux lay.</p><p>It was particularly galling to see the fairest flower laid beside him, but he kept the rage out of his voice as he bid Hux be up and about, they were moving out within the hour. Stragglers left behind. He crashed out of Hux’s room not waiting for a reply.</p><p>As they prepared to mount, Plutt put in an appearance, along with several unsavoury looking companions, clearly overrating his bargaining power as he treated for reparation; growing hysterical as Rose emerged through the inn door, her few belongings bundled into a shawl.</p><p>When my lord drew his sword, swift justice was meted out. As he swung into Hux’s saddle, after appropriating Hux’s horse, his eye caught the hateful outline of the inn. Drab peeling paintwork, drab dirty thatch. He gave the order, “Burn it.”</p><p>With shouts and whoops of joy, faggots from the fire were brought out and thrown onto the roof. At first there were just wisps of smoke, the brands cooling from orange to white in the fresh air, but then one caught, and then another. He pulled away as the burning began in earnest, bidding five of them make sure no neighbours came to douse it and spoil sport. They grinned up at him, “Yes, my lord.”</p><p>At that he dug in his heels, Hux following on a spare mount, Rose on the saddle bow before him. They did not halt until they reached the city.</p><p>It never occurred to him that she could be hiding in plain sight right under his nose, not for another six months did he discover it; working in his kitchens all the while, for she was a good cook, calling herself Daisy.</p><p>In between, Tie was found by a patrol in the north of the county apparently abandoned, and missing his bridle and saddle, having taken no obvious harm.</p><p>Hux married Rose and was recalled by Snoke and ordered to give her up. That they had an informant amongst them was obvious, for Ren had not told him of it. Instead, Ren moved her into a house in the city proper, outside the fortress’s walls. Hux returned chastened and demoted, but unrepentant - except when kneeling before Snoke - and made discreet visits to her, the first of his children soon on the way.</p><p>Ren tried to be happy for them, but it was very difficult to see Hux hanging so fondly over his wife, a slave to her will, living only to make her happy. It was better when Rose was banished to town.</p><p>No-one questioned him about Rey. Hux vaguely asked about her to which he answered shortly, “She’s gone.” A rumour started that he’d killed her and the inn had become her funeral pyre. He did nothing to disabuse them.</p><p>Shortly he had a long rambling letter from Snoke on the deceptive nature of women, commending him for his resolute chasteness. He read this with a wry smile, he rather thought chasteness had made a place for him, but replied respectfully and with appreciation for his mentor’s unfailing wisdom.</p><p>The day he found her he was coming from the practice ground in the outer bailey, having thrashed all who came against him. It was one of those days when he wished to see no-one, a broody day Hux called them, so he dodged into the inner bailey by way of the kitchens and that’s when he saw her.</p><p>Her hair was uncovered, being tied back in three buns. Her dress looked new and she’d filled out, though still tiny of waist and narrow of hip and small of bust. She was carrying a basket of produce and didn’t immediately see him. She was humming a tune and for some reason this cut him to the quick; he hadn’t known a day’s happiness since the day she left him.</p><p>She must have become aware of his presence through peripheral vision, turning toward him with a smile which faded when she saw it was he, her song ceasing immediately. He thought she was going to run.</p><p>“Stand fast,” he called, advancing on her rapidly, “do not move.”</p><p>She was obedient to his command, putting down the basket of vegetables at her feet.</p><p>He halted before her, taking in her beauty, realising she still moved him in ways no other woman ever had or ever would.</p><p>“So,” he looked upon her without another word. She seemed to be of the same mood for she answered slowly, “So.”</p><p>His eyes were constantly moving over her, drinking in every part of her. At last he was done and the words came.</p><p>“Did you drug me?” She dropped her gaze, shame-faced, “I did.”</p><p>He thought back to that night. “Was it Rose?” She nodded, still unable to meet his eye, “When she grasped my hand, she put the powders in it.” Her face assumed a closed off look and her voice when she spoke had a suffocated quality to it. “Sometimes, when Plutt was not deep enough in drink, he would fancy himself amorous, Rose and I used the powders to subdue him and maintain our virtue.”</p><p>“I see,” he said shortly, wishing he could resurrect Plutt and kill him again many times over, only slower. His jaw was working, “I meant you no harm, I would have brought you here and made you first lady in the land.”</p><p>Something of her fire returned. “Thank you, my lord?” She flashed him a withering glance before dropping her eyes once more.</p><p>“You would have held out for marriage?” She shook her head. “I see.”</p><p>“Did you mean it, what you said,” he dropped his voice, “that I was beautiful?”</p><p>She raised her eyes then, they were hazel with brown and gold flecks, “Every word,” she answered, “there’s not a night I haven’t thought of you, haven’t imagined how it would have been had I not ...” Her voice trailed off.</p><p>He nodded. “I too have thought often of that night. You treated me with tenderness, I think. You set me to rights when you could have killed me a hundred times.” His jaw was working again, a sign of great emotion she was to learn.</p><p>“I waited until all was still,” she offered, “I lay beside you and dreamed of what life could be were you truly mine.” She gave a wry smile, “It soon brought me to my senses. I am not for the likes of you nor are you for the likes of me. I took Tie, saddled him, and made for here.” She caught his look of inquiry. “I know someone here, she agreed it was better to hide in plain sight. I’ve worked here ever since.”</p><p>He huffed, “You were both in the right. I had the county scoured for you never thinking you were here, under my nose, all this while. That’s when Tie was found.”</p><p>“Yes, I know. I was relieved when he was returned. I had a friend who took him north and turned him loose. He sold your saddle and bridle, I’m afraid, in recompense.”</p><p>He snorted, “The wonder of it he didn’t sell Tie.”</p><p>“Ah, well, Tie behaved very badly once we parted. My friend was glad to be shot of him, but the harness fetched a good price so he was satisfied.”</p><p>“And what of my satisfaction?” He’d blurted it out, not intending the double meaning, but he saw by her blush how she had taken it.</p><p>“I will not live as your mistress,” she was biting her lip, unable to meet his gaze.</p><p>“Will you not? There was a significant pause between them. It was he who broke the impasse, “Well, then, we’d best be wed.” With that, he scooped her up in his arms and set off in the direction of the chapel, the basket of vegetables overturned and scattering over the cobbles. Instinctively she wound her arms around his neck.</p><p>“Beau-sire, ware. I heard what Baron Snoke threatened Lord Hux with. With you he’s like to kill you if you wed one such as I.”</p><p>He paused then, looking down at her, his lips drawn back in a snarl, “Not if I kill him first.”</p><p>He resumed his walk to the chapel.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There’s mention of a dagger being drawn in this chapter to make a blood oath.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He took her from the altar to his bed, hoisting her up over his shoulder, offending the fastidiousness of Hux and giving joy to such of his household gathered together to witness their union. He strode from the chapel to great cheering.</p><p>Somehow his need for her was different, now they were bound by marriage, he didn’t know why, but it was. Perhaps because of the sacredness of the bond they had entered into? He acknowledged the possibility but not much beyond that, content that it was so.</p><p>He kept her busy in bed for a week, feeding her sweet honey cakes fresh baked every day on his orders. Daily he slipped from the chamber to attend to business as she lay fast asleep, curled up in the great bed worn out by <i>his</i> appetite for <i>her</i>.</p><p>This was no reflection on her desirability, clearly, but that he must neutralise Snoke’s spy by offering him a greater reward.</p><p>That he was regarded merely as a weapon to do Snoke’s bidding he was aware, but he was so much more; intelligent, wily, to say the least.</p><p>It was overlooked he’d <i>chosen</i> to subject himself to Snoke, believing for a long while that only Snoke could direct his feet to greatness. His father had counselled him against being too dependent upon his mentor; saying he was only wanted as his bloodline added legitimacy to Snoke’s push for power. That there’d come a day when Snoke had no further need of him, and then what?</p><p>That may have been true, but it was now irrelevant, for he had the girl, and when he covered her body with his own, when he played stallion and mare with her, when he claimed and owned her for those all too brief minutes when they were joined together as one, he knew that Snoke’s narrow vision for him had lost its charm forever.</p><p>When he gazed into her eyes, he knew his future was whatever he chose it to be; and who knew what he might gain with her beside him and by means of his sword? He’d seen it that day in the forest, again when he first pressed her to his breast, and every day since he’d been reunited with her.</p><p>He’d been too much Snoke’s creature at first to acknowledge it. It had taken her loss to realise it - they were destined to be together. A Dyad. A pair.</p><p>Every June henceforth, he had vowed, he would lead her out when the moon shone full, and beneath the Dyad moon solemnly renew his vows to her by its strawberry coloured light. For their love was not earthbound, but of the stars, crossing infinite galaxies and being full of endless possibilities. Hence, he must deal with the spy.</p><p>Dopheld Mitaka was his treasurer, his chancellor, his major-domo; as such a man with a finger in every pie.</p><p>It had not taken him long to figure who was feeding Snoke his information, there coming from him hard on the heels of any difficulty in the county a letter full of timely advice. His suspicion had long been that it was Hux. Too obvious he now realised since Hux’s fall from favour. He had attributed Hux’s snooty fastidiousness solely to jealousy.</p><p>Now, however, observing Hux daily unbending little by little due to the soft warmth of his wife, content to take his demotion if it meant keeping her, he fully repented of his error. Mitaka, now. Well, Mitaka was proving himself something of a grey man, and as such not to be trusted.</p><p>He intercepted him passing through the inner bailey, heading for the outer bailey and the main gate. “Well met, Mitaka, I’ve business to conduct with you, let us away to your closet for private speech.”</p><p>Mitaka bowed, “Beau-sire, I am your servant. Permit me only to finish mine errand and I shall be wholly yours.”</p><p>“Well, there’s a vow, are you not mine already?”</p><p>“Assuredly, my lord, and ever shall be, but my duty to you requires my presence at the main gate.”</p><p>“Ah, ever my servant, but look, here’s a squire to do your bidding,” Ren beckoned a squire over who came at the run.</p><p>“Beau-sire, what is your will,” the lad spoke with a deferential tone, as well he might, bowing as he spoke.</p><p>“See here, Master Mitaka has an errand for you at the main gate.”</p><p>“Sir,” the lad turned to Mitaka, displaying the same eagerness to please but not the same deference, and why would he? Mitaka being my lord’s servant as was he.</p><p>Mitaka bit his lip and a faint blush spread over his cheeks.</p><p>“Beau-sire, truly, it is the work of a minute and then I am done.”</p><p>In answer, Kylo Ren stretched out a hand and fixed his servant with an unblinking gaze.</p><p>“Beau-sire,” protested the man.</p><p>“Give it to me.”</p><p>Looking into that hard, unyielding face, Mitaka knew the game was up. Desperately wishing for a fire, the flame of a candle, even, to burn the rectangle of parchment nestled against his breast, writ full of his treasons.</p><p>With trembling hands he plucked the evidence of his disloyalty to Kylo Ren from within his surcoat and handed it over. The large hand of his lord closed around it, it practically disappearing from view. He tried to swallow, but something was sticking in his throat.</p><p>His lord’s demeanour was changed in an instant, an indulgent smile on his face as he tossed the squire a shilling, deftly caught. “Away with you. I have no need of you now youngling, be about your business.”</p><p>Any sting was taken from his words by the tossing of another shilling the lad’s way, and then a third.</p><p>“Beau-sire, any day you have no need of me, just yell my name. Temiri it is,” the boy grinned, opening his palm to show the three silver coins, his meaning self-evident.</p><p>Kylo Ren laughed, a rich baritone, genuine amusement on his face, deep dimples etched into his cheeks. Never had the squire seen the like and his jaw dropped slightly.</p><p>“Come bother me tomorrow, youngling, and I’ll teach you how I deal with cheeky youths.”</p><p>“To spar with you, my lord. Truly?” The squire practically vibrated with pleasurable anticipation.</p><p>“Aye,” was the careless reply, “though you may need to eat your supper standing up.”</p><p>“Beau-sire, it will be my absolute pleasure.” The boy bowed deeply to his master and then turned and ran off, Kylo Ren continuing to smile indulgently after him. The indulgent expression was soon wiped from his face as he turned to behold his traitorous servant. “Ah, Mitaka, lead on.”</p><p>Miserably, the man turned and walked with lagging steps to the tiny cubby from whence he conducted Kylo Ren’s business and committed his master’s secrets to parchment for dispatch to Snoke. Dispatching them through the agency of the carter who journeyed fortnightly betwixt the fortress and Snoke’s palace.</p><p>How had Kylo Ren discovered his double dealing, and what could he offer to mitigate his crime?</p><p>The small panelled room had a desk built into the stone window embrasure, the narrow south facing glazed panel admitting maximum light into the otherwise claustrophobic room. Mitaka had always felt safe and secure here, the ledgers stored in an iron banded box at his feet, a carved chair made over for his use.</p><p>To his surprise, Ren did not occupy this chair, but instead took the low stool usually reserved for the chastisement of Mitaka’s minions. He seated so far above them, they all but abased.</p><p>This psychology didn’t work with my lord, rather it was he who felt intimidated. My lord’s shoulders leaned against one wall, his long legs stretched out toward the other, blocking the exit, playing with the pommel of the long bladed dagger he habitually wore crossbody before him.</p><p>This latter action commanded all of Mitaka’s attention. It was a weapon of ancient design, a seax, no cross-guards to speak of. Why, should my lord plunge it into him, into his belly for instance, the hilt would probably follow the blade into his innards until my lord’s meaty fist acted as brake. He began to sweat.</p><p>“Ah, Mitaka,” Ren began, his tone conversational, “I require wise counsels.”</p><p>This was not the opening gambit Mitaka had anticipated. “Yes, yes,” continued my lord, those great amber eyes of his pinning his servant to the chair, “wise counsels. Will you stand a wise counsellor to your lord, Mitaka, and earn his love?”</p><p>Mitaka had once seen a cat play with a mouse. Herding the poor creature whither it would with sheathed claws before allowing a break for freedom, pouncing with calculated cruelty to begin the game again. In the game currently being played out in his closet, he was pretty sure he was the mouse and his lordship a particularly lethal cat.</p><p>Mitaka licked his lips, “Wise counsels you say, my lord. Well, I can try.” He hoped so very much they were not to discuss the means of his demise.</p><p>“I find I need to bind a soul to me, Mitaka. A particularly important soul.”</p><p>“A soul, my lord?”</p><p>“Aye, a soul. I’d do the job myself, but my wife would object. I believe you have heard of her skill with a bow?”</p><p>Mitaka was floundering now. “Are you speaking of a marriage, Beau-sire? Is it not better to speak to a priest?”</p><p>“All in good time, Mitaka, all in good time. I have the bride, you see, but not the bridegroom.”</p><p>Mitaka gave it up, shaking his head, despairing of keeping his head on his shoulders in this game of catspaw.</p><p>Kylo Ren rose to his feet in one fluid movement, large and looming over the now abased man.</p><p>“I perceive your wits are gone begging this day, Mitaka. Have you forgot? Baron Snoke wished me to marry the Lady Amilyn and bind her to our cause. In lieu of me, being now most happily wed myself, I must find another bridegroom to warm her bed and secure her loyalty to me.”</p><p>He loomed over his servant, Mitaka’s eyes blank and uncomprehending, terrified, his body pressed against the chair back trying pathetically to escape my lord’s overpowering presence.</p><p>“Mitaka, Mitaka,” chided my lord softly, “is marriage so repugnant to you that you shrink from it?” His voice was soft but his eyes were full of malice, glowing amber in the late spring sunshine peeping through the narrow casement. Like some large feral cat, or wolf.</p><p>“Wh-what has marriage to do with me, my lord?”</p><p>“Why you are my chosen bridegroom for the lady, Mitaka. My very loyal servant. You are my very loyal servant, are you not?”</p><p>Mitaka continued to stare uncomprehendingly at his master, “I to marry the Lady Amilyn?”</p><p>Well might he stare, the prize was more than he could ever hope to achieve through his own endeavours. Snoke would never raise him so high. In addition, the lady was personable, not in the first blush of youth it was true, but comely of face and figure, and rich, very, very rich, with full seisin of the land she held.</p><p>The amber eyes above him continued their unblinking stare. Mitaka wetted his lips.</p><p>“It would be an honour to serve your lordship in anyway you desired.”</p><p>Ren pulled back, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.</p><p>“Well said, Mitaka. Now we need to discuss the bride price. What will you give me to secure the prize?”</p><p>“My unstinting loyalty, beau-sire.”</p><p>“Oh, do I not already have that?” Ren’s eyebrows rose in inquiry.</p><p>“Of course, my lord, of course. I meant its <i>continuance</i>, my most faithful devotion in all matters pertaining to you.”</p><p>Ren seemed satisfied, but to Mitaka’s horror drew the seax from its sheath.</p><p>“M-m-my lord!”</p><p>“Quiet, Mitaka. I just need to draw a little of our blood to bind us as brothers. Hush, man, hush,” for the terrified man whimpered and drew back at his words.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll draw it from our thumbs and not across our palms as in the old way.” He gave an unexpected toothy grin, “I dare not risk my wife’s ire should I bloody her breast while I fondle it.” Mitaka goggled at his master’s macabre humour.</p><p>Ren reached for his right hand and Mitaka saw the edge of his letter to Snoke peeping out of his lordship’s sleeve. It must be folded in half he thought dully, the seal bound to be broken. How could my lord now fail to read it? Ren mistook the shudder that ran through him.</p><p>“Sa, sa, man, easy. It is just a prick and all is done.”</p><p>It most certainly wasn’t just a prick, and only my lord’s pressing his own thumb against his assuaged the pain.</p><p>“There now. Have you a cloth to bind it. Or better yet, a cobweb plucked from a corner of this poky hole?”</p><p>Mitaka had his thumb in his mouth and was sucking hard to seal the wound. He mutely shook his head.</p><p>“Ah well, you’ll do.”</p><p>Of course Ren would say that, used as he was to cutting people into collops before his breakfast. Nevertheless, Mitaka made the right noises to show his agreement with his lordship’s robust ways.</p><p>Ren was carefully wiping his blade on a piece of cloth pulled from his sleeve - his other sleeve. “We’ll discuss strategy later after supper, when Lord Hux is with us. I’m sure the lady in question will have an opinion, but nothing we can’t overcome, hey, Mitaka?”</p><p>A faint “Yes, beau-sire,” and a nod answered him.</p><p>“Good, good. Well, I must be off and comfort my wife. Marriage is all work, Mitaka, as you’ll shortly find out, but fortunately pleasurable in the doing of it.”</p><p>The flaring skirts of Ren’s leather gambeson touched Mitaka’s knees as he whirled about, broad shoulders filling the doorway briefly, and then he was gone.</p><p>Mitaka sagged back in his chair, unable to collect his tumultuous thoughts, fighting to calm his jangling nerves. He had just been raised up to unimaginable heights, but at a price. Ren would be quick about telling of the blood oath. His own wound would be visible confirmation, and one of a thousand men at least would hunt him down and kill him if he betrayed Ren again, not least the young lad Temiri.</p><p>That he would have betrayed him at some instance was a given, in a much more profound way than writing of the county’s difficulties or, lately, of Ren’s marriage. For Snoke had vowed to break Kylo Ren just as he had made him, aware of the young man’s ambition and assumption that all he had won for Snoke would one day be his.</p><p>He scrabbled about in search of his own handkerchief and mopped his brow and upper lip, before loosely binding it about his wound. He would go lie down upon his bed and compose himself, rearrange his thoughts, but first he must change the hose he had wetted when Ren drew the blade before his eyes.</p><p>Kylo Ren, meanwhile, was making his way to where his wife lay, softly humming a tune of his own composition. He was well pleased with his work and would put his own men about Mitaka when he had him safely wed. That he had been neutralised he was certain. Snoke would never forgive his underling’s betrayal, and most certainly would not have bestowed the Lady Amilyn on someone so unworthy.</p><p>Snoke was a terrible snob as well as autocratic, though his own antecedents did not bear scrutiny. Perhaps that was the root cause of his elitism?</p><p>He found his wife bathed and be-robed, her hair loose and shining from its recent brushing. He pursed his lips, this was too bad, he liked her best when she wore a more dishevelled look.</p><p>She was sipping on a cup of mead, standing before the fire, casting a brief glance at him as he let himself into their chamber, a soft, secret smile in her lips as she turned back to the fire. He would know the reason for that smile.</p><p>He stood behind her, his arms winding about her waist, his nose pressed into her neck. She didn’t smell like him anymore, but of camomile and fresh washed linen, the scent of the lavender soap the laundress’s used clinging to it.</p><p>“How now, wife. Have you missed me?”</p><p>She gave a little trill of laughter, indulgent in its tone, “How may I miss you, husband, when you are not gone five minutes together?”</p><p>It gave him a thrill when she called him husband, that fond title still fresh in its novelty.</p><p>“You are a cruel mistress, unworthy of my love.”</p><p>“Oh that I was, that I might get some sleep!”</p><p>He changed tack, wresting the cup from her hand and putting it down on the table which stood near, keeping one arm wrapped tight around her waist, for she was nimble of foot, aye, and fleet of foot too. He had plans for her amusement, every one of them keeping her from sleep and from her dinner too.</p><p>He began to nuzzle at her neck, “Come, love, come to bed the better to engage in sweet combat. Let me further instruct you in the joust.”</p><p>All the while he was untying the sash that held her robe together, slipping it from her shoulders to find some unkind person had dressed her in a shift. No matter, he reached down and ran a hand beneath it, making soft caress of her thigh, heading for her secret place. When he reached this, she groaned softly, pressing her shoulders against his chest the better to bear down on his meaty fingers.</p><p>“Oh, if I must.” She made soft complaint, but pushed his hand away to tread toward their bed, shucking off the shift as she went and exposing the lithe body he had determined to worship the rest of his days.</p><p>“Indeed you must,” he murmured, beginning to unbuckle his sword belt. He caught sight of the parchment peeking from under his cuff. In one movement he plucked it out and consigned it to the fire. He had thought himself swift in his undressing, but soft voiced complaint at his tardiness came from the bed.</p><p>His wolfish grin flashed across his face, “I come, <i>domina</i>, I come. Such a needy puss,” he scolded.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Well-matched Lady</h2></a>
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    <p>Kylo Ren held no terrors for Amilyn Holdo, although she had a healthy respect for what he could do if his will was directly crossed.</p><p>She knew his mother. Indeed, had been a maid of honour at the glittering court which surrounded that beautiful, wilful, headstrong princess. Had witnessed first hand the rage of Anakin Skywalker when he found out the apple of his eye, his daughter, had married a poor knight, the brash, handsome Han Solo.</p><p>She had been sent home in disgrace subsequently for aiding and abetting the marriage and was married shortly after herself, ‘to better occupy her waking hours’. No children had come to be born of the union and she had been a widow some twelve months.</p><p>She was well aware of what Kylo Ren’s coming into the county betokened, Baron Snoke intended him as her second husband. Her affinity was well entrenched in the county and her bloodline pure; traceable back to Charlemagne. The wonder was that he had not come courting after all. It had piqued her curiosity - not that she intended to wed him - nor had it provoked spleen at his tardiness.</p><p>The reason he had not come was soon evident, for he had put his ring on the finger of another; pledging himself to a girl with skin kissed by the sun, possessed of wide hazel eyes and freckles. He led her about with a brash confidence reminiscent of his father, but it was whispered by her maids that it was the lady who ruled.</p><p>If you wished to see Kylo Ren on the fret, jaw working, look to his lady. Were her brows drawn together in a frown? Was her nose scrunched up in displeasure? Did her lips make a moue of dissatisfaction? Hear him then countermand every order just given, listen to him berate his household for their misinterpretation of his will.</p><p>That they paid the marriage due with mutual ardency was evident; the signs of sexual congress were not only upon the sheets but on the pillowcases too, was the gossip of her laundresses. Apparently, Kylo Ren buried himself deep in the slender maid he took to bed. She took no harm, however, but appeared every morning full content, lips bruised as though bitten by the bee, and full red as though from a surfeit of cherries.</p><p>Observing this connubial bliss, Amilyn began to to turn her mind to achieving marital satisfaction in her own behalf. Marry she must, not least to prevent being abducted and married against her will should she step outside her fortress walls. Suitors had held off, knowing of Baron Snoke’s will. However, with Kylo Ren married, attempts fair and foul to win her would be made, beginning when Ren’s broad back finally disappeared from line of sight.</p><p>Ren had brought with him an inoffensive looking man, with black button eyes, a bandaged thumb, and a perpetually worried look, flinching whenever his dark lord’s eye came upon him.</p><p>It did not take her long to figure the reason Ren was constantly bringing this nervous individual to her attention - he intended him as her husband.</p><p>Amilyn, pragmatic and holding her land in her own right, gave consideration to this. She needed a helpmeet, whom she would rather choose than have chosen, and the prospective one currently standing in her castle muniment room spoke like a sensible man now Ren’s eye was not upon him.</p><p>She engaged him in talk of estate management and found him to be knowledgeable, untying knots on several issues regarding the management of her land. He was younger than her, and no doubt more vigorous than her last lord, who had been older.</p><p>She had with her two of her most trusted maids - not that she had intended anything untoward mind you - apart from herself and Mitaka. She watched his lips as he spoke, they were not displeasing. His teeth too, from what she could see, were good. They were of a height, he built on solid lines where she was slender.</p><p>She made a calculated shot at a venture, stepping into his personal space clasping his cheeks between her hands and pressing her lips to his. His breath was sweet.</p><p>He started but did not pull away, rather wound his arms around her and pressed her against the table where she sat to collect her rents each quarter. His arms were strong, his kisses skilled. It was all rather pleasant, disturbing too, but she supposed one never forgot how to bear the weight of a man. He’d do, though she’d try him tonight before they gave Ren the happy news.</p><p>The morrow found her well satisfied. Her intended had gone to work with a most gratifying skill and energy. She felt like purring.</p><p>Ren, when she gave him the happy news, puffed out his chest and looked like a cat got into the cream. There was an air of relief too, she couldn’t fail to notice, for in order to force her to the altar he would have had to send away his beloved, at no little inconvenience to himself and some opposition from the lady herself.</p><p>For he meant to keep his dark doings away from the eyes of his wife, not wanting to lose a scrap of her regard, although surely she had an inkling of his autocratic nature. The subject at hand was, however, personal to her. Indeed, Rey approached Amilyn privately and promised if she did not truly wish it, she had only to say the word and all would be undone in an instant.</p><p>Amilyn looked at her speculatively, at that troubled face still wearing a layer of baby fat but with the promise of great beauty when it matured, and assured her of her happy compliance, in no doubt of Rey’s ability, should she choose, to change Kylo Ren’s mind.</p><p>They stayed a further two weeks, enjoying the wedding feast and attendant festivities, before heading for home, waved off by the happy couple, Lord and Lady Holdo, for Mitaka had adopted his wife’s family name at her instance.</p><p>Within a month, Amilyn knew she was with child, an unexpected but most welcome bounty from her new lord. Before that happy event, she had paid back Kylo Ren in his own coin - she had written a letter to his mother.</p><p>They could not keep knowledge of their treasons indefinitely from Snoke, but they could delay the transmission of them. Mitaka, therefore, continued to send his reports, with notable omissions, and letters containing unsolicited advice arrived regularly.</p><p>Evidently, Baron Snoke could also dissemble, a fact evident only after a failed attempt to murder Kylo Ren occurred.</p><p>The weeks slipped by pleasantly enough, bringing only mild irritations, such as the arrival of his princess mother, but the signal of the end of these carefree days occurred while they were out hunting. His princess mother, thankfully, safely ensconced in the fortress.</p><p>A relatively small party they were led by his wife, who proved herself to have a faultless knowledge of the best hunting grounds. The beaters had done their work well, or so it had seemed at the time, for hardly had they got into the wood when, with a great crashing, out burst a stag from the undergrowth; a noble beast.</p><p>So sudden was its appearance, they proved unready and the stag was like to get away, rapidly crossing the glade with great bounds and into the shelter of the trees. The wood they were hunting in was not like the forest, but spaciously planted with deciduous trees, at least in this part.</p><p>Ren gave a bellowing halloo, answered by the distant tongue of the hounds and the long wind of a hunting horn.</p><p>“Ho moy, Ho moy,” Ren cried joyfully, digging his heels into his courser’s flanks and heading for the place the stag was last seen. The hunting horn sounded a long note and the bell-like voices of the hounds answered.</p><p>The chase led them deeper into the wood, the trees here not as carefully husbanded by Ren’s woodsmen. Ahead of them was a dense thicket of thorns, which they pulled up in front of believing the stag had gone to ground within it. They needed the dogs in order to flush it out; spreading out around it to peer into the gloom for a glimpse of their prey.</p><p>It suddenly occurred to Ren the dogs baying was receding rather than increasing. A prickling started on the back of his neck.</p><p>He glanced to his right, his wife had drawn her bow, an arrow nocked and ready. She met his concerned glance initially by giving him a wide smile in return, which faded as she took in his frowning look.</p><p>“Hux,” Ren called, “let’s away from this place.”</p><p>Hux looked up from his peering, an expression of annoyance on his face at Ren’s seeming capriciousness. This was quickly replaced by concern as he interpreted Ren’s expression. He recalled the hunting party to him, their men also quickly catching the change in mood.</p><p>“Do you not think it strange,” Ren began, “that we were blessed with game so quickly, without the hounds having to cast about? Hark, where are they now?”</p><p>Every ear strained, but there was only the sound of the breeze in the trees, the impatient stamp of their horses hooves and their steeds snorting breaths, a little blown from the exertions of the chase.</p><p>Those that had them adjusted their grip on crossbow and spear, but most of the party had sword and dagger only. All were without the benefit of a shield or chain mail. Ren put his wife betwixt him and Hux, loosening the sword at his side.</p><p>They had not got far in the retracing of their steps when the attack came. Men dressed as foresters and huntsmen leaping out of bushes and from behind great trees, slightly fewer than the hunting party which numbered some twenty persons.</p><p>The man running at Ren, an axe raised in his hand, was stopped by an arrow piercing his chest. Ren felt it whizz past him, swearing later he felt the kiss of the goose feathers on his lips as it was launched on its deadly trajectory, hearing the dull thud as it hit target. The man dropped as if made of stone.</p><p>His sword was in his hand now, the bright Saragossa blade flashing in the dappled light, drawn without her customary shriek as he was unable to draw in a wide arc, another assailant practically at his stirrup. Along with their party were a gaggle of young squires and, try as he might, it was impossible to keep watch on his wife in the subsequent melee.</p><p>He next saw her as he put the last man down, standing in the stirrups astride the bay mare he had given her in recompense for her maidenhead. Someone had wrested her bow from her grasp, but she had an arrow in her right hand, her left hand clamped on the reins, keeping the mare in check.</p><p>As he watched, she bent from that slender waist of hers, which he could easily span with both hands, aye, snap her in two if he so wished, and plunged the arrow into her assailant’s throat, twisting the shaft so that the broad arrowhead did its destructive worst. It was an act of calculated cruelty. He felt his blood heat, dismounting and going to her, sheathing his sword as he strode toward her, his woman.</p><p>She turned toward him, casting around for another victim to destroy, her expression wanton as if with lust; feral; elemental.</p><p>He had reached her side, putting up his hands and drawing her down from the high saddle. She stood within the shelter of his arms, looking up at him out of green eyes, their amber depths aglow.</p><p>“Come, lady, come,” he softly beseeched, leading her from the track and into the trees. He heard a few concerned, “My lord’s” from behind him, over-ridden by guffaws of understanding. He continued to lead her on, she raising her gown and treading delicately beside him as their feet sank into the litter underfoot, the soft thud of their feet broken by the occasional snapping a twig, a breeze disturbed the branches above their heads, aping the sound of the sea.</p><p>He didn’t tread too far away from his party, that would have been foolish beyond belief, but there was an imperative in him stronger than any ordinary regard for their safety.</p><p>She seemed to know his intention without the necessity of a tedious exchange of words, her mood matching his own, for she leaned back against the broad trunk of the tree he had chosen for their tryst and began to draw up her skirt and petticoat while he hitched up his tunic and with fumbling hands loosened his codpiece.</p><p>He stepped between her spread legs, feeling for the moist sheath into which he would bury himself. She was ready for him, more than ready. A little fumbling on his part and then he was buried deep inside her, provoking a hiss from the both of them. He at the immediate feeling of relief coursing through him, she with the pleasure his single hard thrust provoked.</p><p>It was now that he kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, drawing needy moans from her as he encircled her protectively with his arms. He held her gaze as he thrust into her, five times, before spilling his seed deep within, hearing her breath hiss as he did not spare her throughout.</p><p>He continued to press into her, leaning his forehead against hers, until at last he softened and slid out, spent. Mechanically, she smoothed out her petticoat, the fine red wool one he had gifted her, and her dark green gown. He retrieved his discarded codpiece and refastened it, casting around for his cap which she had knocked off in order to latch onto his hair.</p><p>They walked back to the hunting party with an arm around each other; hers around his waist, his around her shoulders, hearing the murmuring of his men grow louder as they stripped the fallen enemy of possessions and weapons, binding up their comrades wounds.</p><p>Every eye turned upon them as they stepped out of the tree line and onto the track, before busying themselves to look elsewhere. A squire came up with Rey’s mare and he mounted her in the saddle without uttering a word, taking charge of Tie and swinging himself into the saddle.</p><p>The sound of boot on stirrup, and the creak of leather as men settled their weight, was proof enough that they were ready to move out, so he touched Tie’s flanks without looking back and set his head for home.</p><p>His wife came alongside, pressed as close as she could, Hux came up on her left flank, eyes staring fixedly ahead, between his horse’s ears.</p><p>The legend was that his son was conceived that day, his subsequent birth a source of great delight and pride. That happy day was not without its irritations though, for he knew, with his son’s coming into the world, he would never be shot of his mother.</p><p>This impiety he kept to himself, for his wife was as a daughter to Leia, and he would not risk diminution of her love, no, not in the smallest degree being a jealous guardian of every part. They lived happily together then, and he took his irritations to the armoury or the stables, grinding his teeth and fault finding to the irritation of all.</p><p>His mother brought with her, along with a distressing habit of calling him Benjamin publicly despite his oft expressed wish that she would not, her cloth of estate embroidered with the royal arms of Naboo and the ducal arms of Alderaan. He adopted these arms himself, eschewing the pitiful title (his mother again) bestowed upon him by Snoke.</p><p>It was under these banners he marched, along with Amilyn’s and those seigneurs he had won to his side on her recommendation and upon giving his parole that the land would be governed as in his grandparents’ day. Under these banners he met Snoke in battle and cut him into collops, just as the newly made duke Dopheld Holdo had confided to his newly made duchess he would.</p>
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